


4 Times Johnny Cade Almost Dies

by your_local_human



Category: The Outsiders - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Canon Compliant, Car Accidents, Child Abuse, Gen, Near Death Experiences, Non-Linear Narrative, Not beta'd we die like men, Not really though, but technically 4 + 1 Things, i did this for school okay, im trying, lots of monster and haunted imagery for no reason other than symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29836614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_local_human/pseuds/your_local_human
Summary: … And The One Time He Actually DoesJohnny Cade has been evading death ever since he was a kid, the Grim Reaper seemed to follow him everywhere and he just couldn’t seem to shake himor4 times Johnny has a near-death experience, and the one time it's not a near-death experience at all
Kudos: 6





	4 Times Johnny Cade Almost Dies

**Author's Note:**

> I suppose this is dedicated to my English teacher who assigned me to write fanfiction. And how I 1) freaked out because I read too much fanfiction and felt called out in class and 2) completely disregarded the 5-page limit and wrote a ten page fic about graphic violence for school. (and if this is my teacher reading this... can this please count as extra credit?) (◕‿◕✿)

_i._

_Age 6, May 4, 1955_

When Johnny was little he thought his house was haunted. The absence of footsteps in the hallways and the strong lingering smells made him think his parents were ghosts. He dreaded the screams that he only ever seemed to hear in his sleep. He didn’t fear the monster under his bed or the demon in the closet, he feared the shadows that were his family. So, like clock-work, every day once he escaped from kindergarten he would, instead of riding his rusted green bike home, rode his bike along the narrow streets till he got to the DX gas station. Most of the older people working there just went along with it and didn’t question the 6-year-old boy who seemed to be everywhere but his home. 

He treated the DX as his shelter from the storm and would usually just sit in the spinning chairs and talk to the workers. And so there he sat, squirming in his leather bar stool like every day before. He was bored now that all the customers had left and was noisily sipping a cola. “Heya Johnny why don’t you head home now, it’s getting dark,” Dennis, the head cashier, said to him in an exasperated voice. Johnny huffed in disappointment and reluctantly hopped off his seat and exited, walking out onto the sidewalk. The distant sun was setting and he could hear the steady hum of crickets around him. The sidewalk was full of cracks and the neon lights above him were flickering red, the paint on the walls was peeling off and the glass door was dirty. Overall, everything in his town was messy and grimy and Johnny didn’t like it one bit, just like how he didn’t like to ride his bike on the pavement. The little boy knew he was supposed to only ride on the sidewalk, he’d gotten scolded by Denny and the Curtis’s more than he could count but there was something about the rush of freedom he got when he rode on the empty street that was unmatchable to cycling on the pavement so he looked around the empty roads, accessing it was safe and kicked off into the street. 

“Woooooo!” he cheered as he quickly peddled along the street, he felt as if he was gliding on the air. He pumped his legs at his top speed and his movements felt automatic, the scenery around him zoomed by as he hurriedly biked in the center of the road. The cold wind whipped at his face and he felt tears in his eyes but he felt free. He was about to get to his house and needed to enter the neighborhood.

Johnny turned a corner and that's when he saw it. Blinding headlights and a bright red truck heading straight towards him. The truck was only a foot away and didn’t seem to notice the boy frozen in place.

There’s screaming coming from somewhere. Johnny doesn’t seem to realize the screams are coming from inside him. 

Usually, there’s supposed to be someone driving the car, but Johnny can’t see them, he could make out the silhouette of a man but whoever it was behind the wheel they didn’t seem to be pushing the brake. The flash of the lights was blinding and everything was moving in slow motion, he could hear the sounds of tires screeching on the asphalt and his own yelling, of course. “ _I should mo-”_ Johnny stares at the sky, lying in the middle of the intersection without any feelings in his legs and left arm. The last thing he hears is a car door slamming before he slowly fades into unconsciousness. 

Johnny woke up in a hospital bed. His legs and arms were in casts. His entire body felt numb and stiff and the room was such a bright white he thought it hurt his eyes. He tried calling out for someone but his voice was so dry it sounded like another person. His whole body was in pain and he could only just think “ _What happened, where am I?_ ” A tall woman with glasses and a clipboard walked in and looked at him, “Ah, your awake, great” she chirped! He blinked his eyes and started to register a few of the things around him, he was hooked up to a weird machine and he was wearing a weird gown instead of his t-shirt. He started to look around anxiously and was having trouble breathing, he was panicking, what did his parents do when he didn’t come straight home? And the pain in his legs was starting to feel more and more unbearable. The voice in his head was getting too loud and his thoughts were getting too panicked, he shut his eyes and started rocking back and forth in frustration as he tried no to cry, out of pain or fear he couldn’t tell you. He started to remember the accident, the truck, the ghost driving the car. The lady in the doorway rushed to his side and took his hand, “Hey hey hey, everything’s okay, what's your name young man?” “Jo-jo-johnny” he sobbed. 

“It's okay! Breathe, Johnny. In and out. Inhale, exhale.”

Johnny slowly tried to focus on his breathing and his heart rate slowly lowered. They just stood there for a moment as he collected himself. When he started feeling better the woman took out a pen and asked “Okay, now that you're feeling better can you please tell me who we can get in contact with to help you. Who are your parents?”

_ii._

_Age 14, October, 1963_

Johnny’s parents had a lot of different names for him. 

Jonnathan, Jo-Jo, Jon.

Worthless greaser, disappointment, screw-up.

These specific names were currently being yelled at his face by his drunken mother. 

“Jo-jo you- you- absolute, you spend all your time with those scruffy greasers, look at your hair, it's all ugly and long,” yelled his mother, pointing her finger in his face while struggling to stand upright. Johnny had been through her charade enough times to know not to open his mouth in response. She continued to get closer, invading his space. “You're just like your father: worth-less,” she slurred. Her face was contorted with anger and her bloodshot eyes stared right into his. She slowly approached him as he started backing up against the kitchen wall. Her finger kept jabbing him in the face while she let out a string of curses. Her breath reeked of alcohol and he could see a bright blue bruise on her face. He quickly assessed the situation trying to figure out the best way to escape his house, but before he could attempt to leave she pushed him harshly in his chest and he scrambled to the ground. He wasn’t shocked because he’d known that he was living with monsters since he was a child. 

“ ‘ey grease, you’re such a.. such a disappointment.” 

She sneered and made a sad clicking noise. She was always this way, but that didn’t stop Johnny from being intimidated. He was sweating and his hands were clammy as he scrambled to stand again and run. He shot up and tried to make a break for the door and was about to reach his front door but before he could open it she had grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled Johnny away. He clenched his jaw and tried to evade her grip but she continued her assault. Her rough knuckle sliced his forehead. She resumed her insults, “Why couldn’t you just leave- it’d be so much easier, simpler for me.” Johnny needed to get out but he was too dazed to figure it out; his head was pounding and he was so sure he was bleeding. He wanted to say something but what can you say when your drunk abusive mother is cursing you out in the voice that used to say “I love you”? She slugged him a few more times in the chest and another particularly violent hit to his forehead left him spinning. She finally released him so she could throw up the contents of her liquor glass. He took his moment to escape the home as she continued to loudly vomit on their wooden floors. He turned around one moment to look at her, she was flushed hot and hunched over on the ground and shaking. She looked up at him with a scowl and in a flat tone slurred “get outta here grease.” When he shut the door he didn’t know where to go, his friends had invited him to the movies but he had declined, he was sure they would be fine if he showed up anyway. As he started the short walk to the movie house the pain started to really hit him. Johnny couldn’t forget the way his mother looked at him, with such un-filtered hate in her eyes. His mother had a soft face but in moments like those, when it was distorted with disgust, it really made her look like an insane monster. But his mother’s violence didn’t stop her son from worrying about her. What if she overdrank herself while he was gone, and would his father beat her while he was at the movies? What if she killed him the next time she got drunk? Johnny’s throat was closing up and he was gasping for air as his mind raced. And then, a voice in the back of his head told him his matra, the one he’d been repeating for years whenever he’d panic, “ _Breathe, Johnny. In and out. Inhale, exhale. Hold on a little bit longer_.”

When Johnny showed up to the movies to join them he looked normal. Dally handed him a soda while continuing to talk about how he was sure that in some way all Socs were obnoxious low-lifes. No one dared to disagree. The group all looked up and nodded at Johnny in acknowledgment while moving a seat over so he was sandwiched between Dally and Soda. Sodapop, known for being observant, barely noticed the bruise on Johnny’s temple but he saw it. The gang all knew about Johnny’s “relationship” with his parents but it had been months since he’d been physically bruised or cut, they’d stopped worrying. 

“Hey Johnny, did’ya parents hit you again?” Soda asked softly, keeping his voice low so Two-Bit and Darry couldn’t hear. And for a quick moment Johnny’s expression changed, it was fleeting but Sodapop saw the grimace. Johnny kept his face neutral and concentrated on sipping his cola. 

“I’m telling you Two-Bit, it's scientific fact, have ya ever met a decent Social,” Dally exclaimed noisily. 

Johnny keeps drinking his cola. 

Sodapop didn’t fail to catch the almost imperceptible shaking of his hands. 

_iii._

_Age 16, January 1965_

And his hands were still shaking. Johnny had woken up in a cold sweat that night. He couldn’t remember what he’d dreamt about but he had a hunch it was about ghosts and monsters. He tried to get back to sleep but every time he closed his eyes all he saw were the twisted faces of shadows and demons. So there he layed, alone in his cold bed with nothing but his own thoughts to accompany him; he decided he might as well go on a bike ride. It’d become a routine for him. He’d sleep at an appropriate hour, wake at an improper hour in the middle of twilight, and never be able to return to sleep. He’d formed a pattern of taking his bike and riding it around town (only the East-side of course, he couldn’t risk running into Socs). The alarm clock on his bedside read 5:30, he’d only slept a mere 5 hours and his eyelids felt heavy. He emerged from his room with his jacket and headed toward the door but was met by his mother leaning on the counter nursing a bottle of rum. She didn’t even see him. When he got outside he was blasted with a rush of cold wind and the sky was still dark. He pulled out his old rusted green bike and set off into the road like so many years before. 

He didn’t know where he was going, he just rode merrily along the paths, passing the DX, the movie house, the grocer, the diner, and all his other favourite spots. He didn’t notice that he had rode all the way to the other side of town, he didn’t notice that the stores were no longer dirty and grimy and cars were shiny and new. Just as he was about to pull over to a Krogers he felt his back wheel skid to a stop and his bike flipped over. Once again, Johnny was lying on the pavement in pain with his old bike on top of him. He slowly opened his eyes trying to figure what had caused his collapse and was met with a tall pale guy wearing a smirk. 

“Oh lookie here William, we have a lost little greaser, we should give him some directions home,” he taunted. He had sculpted blonde hair and was wearing a large gold ring on his hand, his three other friends behind him all dressed similarly, it was obvious that Johnny in his scruffy jean jacket and greased black hair was in the wrong territory. Johnny’s back hurt and he’d scraped his hands against the road leaving them red and stinging. The main guy pulled the greaser up by the collar of his shirt and slugged him in the face. He was too close and smelled strongly of whiskey and he had a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “Hey let go of me you prick,” Johnny growled. “The greaser has some fight in him huh? This will teach you a lesson.” Two of his friends came behind Johnny and held him down while the blonde landed some more punches to Johnny’s face. He felt a sharp and immediate pain in his nose and under his eye socket. He struggled but the guys had both his arms twisted behind his back. “Hey Rich, d’ya know what a Greaser is?” the main guy called to his friend on the side. “No? What are they?” he replied. “White trash with long hair” he fumed staring straight at Johnny. “Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Johnny retorted in a low voice. Insulting a greaser’s hair was the epitome of low and they both knew it, Johnny’s eyes had gone wild and he shook the guys on his back off long enough to free his arm and land a punch to the Socs smug face. “Oh your gonna regret that grease” he hissed and violently shot a fist straight to Johnny’s left cheek, his large ring cutting his face open. Johnny shrieked in pain and watched in horror as his own blood began to drip onto the street. 

The man brushed his ring against his pants to clean the blood off it. It was golden and sparkled in the light from the rising sun. He heard shouts in the distance and the guys nodded in agreement that it was time to clear out. They punched him in the stomach and released him and Johnny immediately collapsed to the ground in pain. He kicked him a few times while he was on the ground too. “That's what you get dirty Greaser, stay out of our side, the next time I see you I’ll use my switchblade” someone called as they started to run off. Johnny’s eyes were screwed closed and he just stayed there curled in a feeble ball in the back of the vacant lot. The pain was unimaginable, his cheek felt like it was on fire and he couldn’t move. Johnny was quivering in the cold and sobbing. He was sobbing because he was alone, because he was cold, because he felt helpless. It took an hour for Dally to find him, the blood had dried and his hazel eyes went black and blood-shot, he hadn’t stopped crying. Dally was his best friend, who he looked up to, he felt pathetic that he saw him in this situation but he couldn’t talk. “Breathe, Johnny. In and out. Inhale, exhale. Hold on a little bit longer, I’ll get you to a hospital,” Dally assured him gently. 

_iv._

_Age 16, May 1965_

“Get back here before I beat your head in,” Dally yelled after them as Johnny and Ponyboy ran up the hill to see what was causing the loud sounds. “Oh glory!” Dally whispered. The church had gone up in flames. It’s wooden boards crackled and the air above them was encompassed with a dark smoke. He could hear Ponyboy curse under breath, and when he turned his head to look at him, his eyes dark, they both nodded in silent agreement that it was all their fault. And to think, the flaming sight and roaring heat in front of them had resulted from a single dropped cigarette. There was a group of children and a few adults crowding in front of the church and one woman behind them appeared, out of breath rambling about how “they’re probably around here somewhere, Jerry a few of the children are missing!” The woman looked around at the crowd of children doing a mental headcount before yelling “four, five children are-” she paused and looked up at the blazing inferno. In that moment all of the people congregating in front of the building shared a single brain cell and they all instinctively turned they’re head to look at the fire. And that's when they heard it, faintly, a yell was coming from somewhere in the church. 

Ponyboy didn’t even wait for Johnny he shouted “I’ll get them, don’t worry” and dashed head first into the light. Johnny followed. His friend smashed a window and crawled into the crumbling structure. When Johnny got inside the smoke filled his lungs and his eyes watered, he pulled his arm up to his mouth and coughed, struggling to breath in the heavy air. As Johnny looked up at Pony he saw a determination he’d never seen before, he didn’t look scared, he looked detached. Then, after scanning the rooms and searching for the source of the yelling they figured out the schoolchildren were probably in the back of the church. When they ran there the crackling got louder and the roar of the flames grew. Embers fell onto them and Johnny had to remind himself to breathe when he realized he’d been holding his breath. The air was thick and looked like charcoal, it stung his lungs but if he didn’t breathe he’d pass out a lot faster. 

_“Breathe, Johnny. In and out. Inhale, exhale. Hold on a little bit longer.”_

He smiled a little at the thought, he’d always survived, he could do this too. As he looked through the glowing haze he saw Ponyboy staring into the flames with an unreadable expression, “it’s a red hell” he mumbled. Together they pushed open the heavy oak doors into the back room and saw the kids huddled together in the corner. One was screaming and shouting and a sense of urgency flooded Johnny as he barked “Shut up! We’re goin’ to get you out!” at the small child. And that’s when Johnny realized that for the first time in four months he wasn’t afraid. He was more sure about himself then he’d ever been. Johnny scooped up the now quiet child and softly dropped outside the window because the door had become enclosed by flames. The smoke was building up and Johnny couldn’t breath anymore, he couldn’t see but he persisted and dropped another child out the open window. Ponyboy did the same and they had finally gotten the last kid out when Johnny heard a loud crack echo through the walls. The sparks from the flame rained down on them and the embers began to sting and burn their skin. The fire roared hotter and he realized the building was going to capsize. In a split second decision he shouted “Get out!” and used his last bit of strength to push Ponyboy out the window before the timber snapped and crashed down on him while the flames surrounded him. 

_v._

_Age 16, May 1965, three days after the fire_

It had been 3 days since the ashen wreck. 3 days since a piece of timber had fallen on top of and broken Johnny’s back. The only difference was this time when he woke up in the hospital, he wasn’t greeted by a doctor, he was met with Dally’s concerned face. That was back when his condition wasn’t as critical that people could see him, now he was connected to a machine that would breathe for him. It wasn’t working. He had barely enough oxygen getting to his head to keep his eyes open. 

_“Breathe, Johnny. In and out. Inhale, exhale. Hold on a little bit longer.”_

He repeats the mantra over and over, trying to will himself to breathe a moment more. To live a little longer for his friends, for Ponyboy, for Darry. He had to keep going, he had to. But then, in the back of his mind he heard a voice reciting the poem Pony had told him so long ago. About how beautiful things couldn’t always last. How time passes, and things age, and grow, and die. About how good things don’t always last forever, so when Johnny repeated his mantra one last time:

_“Breathe, Johnny. In and out. Inhale, exhale. Hold on a little bit longer.”_

He decides to finally let go. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, this is my first time publishing a fic because even through I've written fics before this I've never actually posted them, so yeah, this scared me a little bit~


End file.
